


O for a Voice Like Thunder

by Flenser



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Chapters 70-72, Jearmin Summer Splash 2015, M/M, Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flenser/pseuds/Flenser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All right, who is he?”</p><p>Armin freezes minutely before going back to scrubbing the bowl in the sink.  “Who’s who?” he asks nonchalantly.</p><p>“Henri,” Jean says.  “Out of all the kids...what’s he to you?”</p><p>Or</p><p>Jean’s much more accustomed to being on the receiving end, and though he’s been slowly learning how to care for someone other than himself, he doesn’t think he’s very good at it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O for a Voice Like Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is part of the Jearmin Summer Splash 2015 - a team based writing competition!  
> Prompt: "War does not determine who is right - only who is left"  
> Team: Canon  
> Word Count: 2,661
> 
> Pinch-hit for Jearmin Summer Splash! I tried a different style. Please be kind.
> 
> Banner provided by [benriya-nic-kerdoodle](http://benriya-nic-kerdoodle.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
>    
> 

Armin takes his new duties as caregiver seriously, his round face, soft eyes and kind nature immediately endearing him to the littler ones in their charge. He reads to them, plays games with them, soothes their hurts with a soft word and a ready hug. He’s a natural at nurturing, at _caring_ , and Jean -

Jean’s much more accustomed to being on the receiving end, and though he’s been slowly learning how to care for someone other than himself, he doesn’t think he’s very good at it yet.

“Just _talk_ to them,” Armin tells him while gingerly wiping the tears from a pair of ruddy cheeks. The kid hiccups loudly in Armin’s arms, fat bottom lip quivering. Jean doesn’t know what set the kid off, wants to tell Armin he’s obviously faking it for the attention because he doesn’t see any injuries anywhere, but he stops short because...well, he knows what it’s like to have Armin’s attention and he can’t really bring himself to blame the kid.

“About what?” Jean grunts instead. He peers at the kid in Armin’s arms. He’s noticed that he keeps this one particularly close. He can’t be more than four years old and there’s nothing remarkable about him, all bones and big eyes like the rest, but he’s quiet and Armin practically _dotes_ , and it makes Jean wonder.

“Whatever you want. They’re not picky.”

“Battle formations? 3DMG repair? The speed at which to execute a perfect high yo-yo?” Jean knows he’s being difficult but he can’t help himself; he’s clearly out of his element and frustrated.

Armin gazes at him levelly, blue eyes calculating. While having Armin’s eyes on him usually makes his stomach do funny things, this time Jean feels _nervous_. He opens his mouth to ask about what’s in his head but before he gets the chance his arms are suddenly heavy with thirty pounds of _kid_.

“What the fuck, Armin!” Jean squawks.

“I have to check on their lunch,” Armin informs him, stepping away. “Watch him for me?”

Jean starts to feel panic welling in his chest. He’s not equipped for this. Yeah, he spent most of his life thus far as a kid but that hardly makes him qualified to _watch_ one. “What do I do?” he pleads.

“Talk to him,” Armin repeats. “Be _kind_ to him.” He smiles softly, a little strangely, and with that, slips into the kitchen.

Jean gapes after Armin for a moment before his attention is snagged by a quiet sniffle at his ear. The kid’s chin is quivering, brown eyes filling with tears, and it’s the very last thing Jean wants and thinks he can handle.

“Hey, hey,” he mutters to the kid, “don’t start that.” He jostles him more comfortably on his hip as he frantically looks around the room for anything even remotely entertaining, but finds nothing. The kid’s sniffling is getting louder and his face is doing that _scrunching_ thing, and Jean really, _really_ wants to find and hand him back to Armin, but he also doesn’t want Armin to think him a colossal fuckup. He’s floundering, panicking. What should he do? What _can_ he do? What did _he_ like as a kid?

“Hey,” Jean says suddenly, “do you like magic?”

The kid’s face instantly relaxes and he nods solemnly. Jean snorts - _little faker_ \- and moves to set the kid in a nearby chair but the kid _clings_.

“C’mon, I gotta - I kinda need my hands for this,” Jean tells him, and the kid reluctantly lets go and allows Jean to place him in the chair. Hands freed, the kid immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth, eyes big as Jean casually fishes around in his pocket for the silver coin he forgot to return to Captain Levi after his supply run earlier that morning. He palms the coin and hopes to hell he can remember how to do this, because otherwise, he’s probably screwed.

Jean flashes the kid his trademark cocky grin, then lets his face fall in mock concern. “Hey, what’s that?” he asks, pointing at the kid with his right hand.

The kid’s eyes go wide but he doesn’t move as Jean awkwardly approaches him.

“There’s something behind your ear,” Jean declares, then reaches and quickly moves the coin from his palm to fingers. He flicks his wrist like he’s trying to dislodge something, then holds the coin out in front of the kid’s face with a triumphant grin.

The kid’s hand immediately flies to his ear and gropes around, probably looking for more coins and, upon finding none, he looks at Jean with amazement clearly written across his little face.

“You want to learn how?” Jean asks. The kid nods, and Jean finally feels himself relax. Maybe he can do this.

Armin finds them a little later to tell them lunch is ready, and Jean’s almost hurt at the way the kid launches himself at Armin’s legs. He doesn’t feel any better when Armin gives him a watery smile, but his blue eyes are appraising, so Jean decides to ask later.

They all eat lunch together with the rest of the farm’s residents, and between Connie’s antics and Historia’s scolding, Jean doesn’t notice the kid clumsily trying to pull a coin from Armin’s ear.

*

Armin often foists the kid off on Jean after that, and while Jean’s more confident in handling him, the kid (“Henri, Jean...he has a name, and it’s _Henri_ ”) still doesn’t talk and doesn’t seem to warm up to him any. Jean does his chores while Henri watches, fills the uncomfortable silence with silly stories from training and what it’s like serving with the most reckless member of the 104th. He even talks about how Armin saved his ass a couple of times and notes with satisfaction how Henri’s eyes go wide when he describes Armin’s bravery in fending off titans at the risk of both their lives.

Armin shows up at the tail end of his story and Henri runs right for him, raises his arms in demand to be picked up, and Armin easily hefts him to his hip with that same strange smile and a soft greeting.

Jean forgot to ask him about it the other day and wants to ask now, but finds the moment awkward. Armin and Henri have a strange aura about them that Jean’s reluctant to intrude upon, and it makes him feel left out, especially with how _close_ he and Armin had gotten before Historia took it upon herself to care for the world’s neglected and poor. They used to talk all the time (Jean’s pretty sure they even almost kissed once), but they don’t talk as much now because they’re always busy, and Armin has that weird almost-sad look on his face again and it sucks and Jean doesn’t know why because he hasn’t had a chance to ask him. At least before when he got irritated at Eren sucking up all of Armin’s time he could blame it on Eren being a needy, reckless ass. When it’s just a kid…

Well.

Jean can’t really put his finger on it, but it’s an ugly feeling, and he doesn’t like it.

*

There’s a narrow cot in the large room where the children sleep. It’s meant for whomever’s assigned overnight watch, so they can tend to any needs as they arise. It can really only fit one, but Armin’s smaller than most, and while Jean’s not the biggest risk-taker in the world, he’s tired of not knowing. He thought they had an understanding, some sort of tacit acknowledgment that there were maybe _feelings_ , but the current atmosphere leaves him nervous and unsure.

Jean steals into the room and, heart hammering, slips into the cot behind Armin.

Armin’s whole body tenses as he startles awake. “Eren?” he whispers, and doesn’t _that_ just fucking chap Jean’s ass.

“No,” he grumbles. “It’s me.”

“Jean,” Armin breathes, and relaxes.

Jean thinks it must be his imagination, but he swears he can feel Armin lean back a little into his chest. He’s warm through the flannel of his night shirt and smells like pine and rainwater, and Jean’s immediately bolstered, suffused with the feeling of comfort he’s grown accustomed to associating with the other boy.

Jean props his head up on his hand and looks down at him. “Why’d you think I was Eren?” he whispers.

“He did this sometimes, back in training,” Armin murmurs. “Whenever he was jealous.”

Jean feels his face flush and he looks away. He’s terrible at hiding his feelings while Armin’s gifted with the ability to suss them out. It’s an unfortunate combination that more often than not leaves Jean without room to maneuver. Like now.

“‘M not jealous,” he lies. He didn’t have the word for it before but now that Armin’s said it...yeah. He’s jealous. Of a little kid. And it doesn’t feel good.

“Okay.” Armin’s more generous than most and though he caught Jean out, he doesn’t push it. “Are you all right?” he asks instead.

“Are you?” Jean returns.

Armin looks back at him in surprise. “Why do you -”

Soft footfalls cut him off and they both look up to see Henri standing before them, large solemn eyes unreadable, his thumb in his mouth.

Armin sits up. “Henri,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

Henri shakes his head.

“Bad dream?”

Henri nods.

“Would you like to sleep with me?”

Henri pauses, then shakes his head again, looking over Armin’s shoulder to Jean. Armin turns to regard Jean, and Jean’s not sure why, but he’s suddenly very suspicious of the twinkle in Armin’s eyes.

“Jean, then?” Armin asks Henri, and the little boy nods.

“What?” Jean blurts.

Armin shushes him and lifts the boy into the cot beside him, then gets to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Jean hisses as Henri starts to snuggle in against his chest.

“Henri’s bed. Sleep tight, Jean.” Armin smiles and slips away, crossing the room to lay down on the boy’s worn straw tick.

Jean flops back against the cot in a huff and stares angrily at the ceiling until his vision swims and his eyes burn. He feels like Armin’s dodged him, used Henri to put some distance between them. It’s confusing and frustrating, and he vows to get to the bottom of whatever this is as soon as possible, for both their sakes. He doesn’t think he could stand another day of it. He makes the mistake of looking down at the warm little body next to him and sighs, softening a little.

It isn’t until he’s finally settled with Henri asleep against him that Jean realizes that he’s just seen the most genuine smile that’s graced Armin’s face in days.

*

“All right, who is he?”

It’s the morning after and Jean returns from mucking the stables to find all the kids gone, off on an outing with Historia and the others. He’s filthy and probably stinks and is in desperate need of a bath, but it’s going to have to wait because Armin is in the kitchen with suds up to his elbows and Jean’s pretty sure he can’t get a more captive audience than this.

Armin freezes minutely before going back to scrubbing the bowl in the sink. “Who’s who?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Henri,” Jean says. “Out of all the kids...what’s he to you?”

Armin doesn’t answer, just continues to scrub the bowl until Jean finally gets fed up and stalks over to him, stilling the hand holding the rag with one of his own.

“Come on, Armin,” he presses. “What’s going on?”

It feels like it takes forever, but Armin eventually sets the bowl down and sighs. His eyes are closed, and while Jean is no expert at reading people he can tell by the set of Armin’s shoulders that he was right to ask.

“Henri is -” Armin starts, then takes a breath, opening his eyes to gaze at Jean. They’re still the same cornflower blue that Jean’s come to admire, but they’re a little shadowed now. “Henri is the son of the woman I killed.”

“The son of the woman you -” The realization hits Jean all at once and he feels suddenly sick. “How do you know?” he asks.

Armin shrugs. “I made some inquiries in town, tracked him down. No one knows who his father is and he has no one else, so I had him brought here.”

“But _why_?” Jean asks, aghast. He can’t think of many things more fucked up than rearing the child of the woman who nearly ended his life, but then again, Jean’s never been lauded for his creativity.

“He’s an orphan, Jean,” Armin explains quietly, matter-of-factly. “I orphaned him.”

“Yeah, but -” Jean’s at a loss for how to articulate exactly what he’s feeling, and why. He knows this isn’t his choice, this isn’t about him, and yet...yet he can’t help thinking that it somehow is, and that this - whatever this is - is Armin’s twisted commentary on the matter. “Do you -” he starts, swallows against the pit forming in his stomach. The distance, the strange looks; it used to be fuzzy around the edges but it’s all becoming a little clearer to him now. “Do you regret it?”

“Killing her?”

Jean nods, throat tight.

“ _No_ ,” Armin states strongly, resolutely. His eyes are brighter now, cheeks pinking with the vehemence of that single word. “How could you think I would?”

“It’s just...we haven’t talked much lately, and the kid -”

Armin steps forward and wraps his arms around Jean, burying his face in his chest. Sweet relief washes over Jean like a cool wave and he automatically returns the gesture, nuzzles Armin’s golden crown. The knot in his heart releases. He feels like he can breathe again.

“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you,” Armin tells him in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jean snorts and squeezes Armin tighter. He was no angel, either. “I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a baby about it.” Armin hums, and Jean feels the warm vibration of it in his chest. He’s starting to regret not taking that bath. “Just...tell me what’s going through that big head of yours?”

Armin sags into Jean and heaves a sigh. “I just wanted to know who she was, at first,” he explains quietly, voice resigned. “If she was really a ‘bad guy.’ When I found out she had a child, it was...well, mothers love their children, right? And if they’re capable of that kind of love, they can’t be bad. The only thing that made her a ‘bad guy’ was choosing the other side. So in that respect, I _do_ regret killing her, because she could have easily made a different choice, just like I could have, but do I regret choosing you? Never. She made her choice and I made mine, and we both understood the consequences.” He pulls away, cheeks red, and fixes Jean with a determined look before standing up on his tip-toes and leaning in and -

Joyful laughter in the barnyard signals the children’s return and Jean groans. Armin flashes him an apologetic grin just as Henri bursts through the door, a grim expression on his face and a sad looking little flower in his grubby fist. He beckons for Jean to pick him up, which Jean bewilderingly does, and shoves the flower in Armin’s face. Armin coos his thanks, drops a kiss on his round little cheek, then pauses before doing the same thing to Jean.

Jean’s face feels like it’s on fire.

*

Days later, when they’re standing on the wall receiving the biggest send-off the Survey Corps has ever seen, Jean lets go of Armin’s hand and steps forward to scan the crowd below. He thinks he sees a small boy with somber eyes, and when his comrades begin to cheer, he tries to cheer the loudest.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this bittersweet little ficlet of mine! Tell me what you think in the comments below.
> 
> Prompt: "War does not determine who is right - only who is left"  
> Team: Canon
> 
> On a scale of 1 to 10:
> 
> 1\. How in character was my fic?  
> 2\. How well did my fic handle the prompt?  
> 3\. Overall enjoyment?
> 
>  [Here's a link to my competitor from Team AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4549599/chapters/10356141)
> 
> [Please check out the other works for the Jearmin Summer Splash Here!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/JearminSummerSplash2015)
> 
>  
> 
> **Voting concludes 08/31/15 at 11:59pm!**
> 
>  
> 
> Like this fic? Check out my [other entry](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4551642)!


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